Becoming the Change

A few of you may have read that I stupidly lost my phone in an Uber a few days ago
In between trying to distract my child with multiple objects and him being a hot mess,
He threw it under the seat and by the time we arrived, we all just wanted out.
I had recovered a number of other objects from the car so I just automatically didn't worry.
Then, a few hours later, went searching for my phone to order an uber home and bam.

A little mad at Pablo but more mad at myself for letting it happen.  I let it simmer on Friday night.
On Saturday morning woke up, willing to just let it go.  Two dear friends immediately reached out via my facebook post to let me borrow their phones while I waited for another to be delivered or what may come.  I really didn't think of it at all until I got an email that sent the driver's number and that he had found it.  I had Andres use his phone to send a few messages and call but no response. 

To be honest, I was okay with it.  The situation in Argentina is very fragile right now.  The currency is devalued almost every week and over the last 9 months we have lived here, it's gone from 25 to nearly 45 pesos to the dollar.  This makes life hard for anyone who is paid in pesos with a country that with the exception of alcohol and food, is particularly dependent on imports.   I realized that there was a very good chance that this driver might have needed the money from the phone to feed his family more than I did.  I was ready to let it go.

When eating lunch at the Olivos food trucks, Andres went to get something to eat and was gone longer than usual.  I saw him receiving a call.  As he walked up with food and drinks in his hand, he declared "Your phone has been found. The guy will bring it tomorrow."  Wow.  I thought, miracles do happen, but once again, was reluctant to believe that the issue was solved.  We both agreed to give him a reward of about 2000 pesos/ $50, not much but a good sum here and we thought it was a fair and not overly boisterous reward.

This morning, the man arrived around 10 am and we took the money out to him.  He did not want to take the reward but he asked us for another favor.  Wow.  I was blown away.  So he didn't take the money, but what he did was more proactive and better than anything I could have imagined.   "Here is my resume, here's my experience (listing his experience). More than anything I need better work." 

In a world where there is a lot of pain and a lot of greed and a lot of nonsense, this man's kindness and gumption moved me.  I am really hoping that somehow we can help find him more consistent work.  He does truly embody Gandhi's "We must become the change we wish to see."

#Sol19 #finalslice #buenosaires #argentina #bethechange

ABCs of Me

Anxious
Ballsy
Curious
Dancer
Energetic
Foodie
Grateful
Hypochondriacal
Intelligent
Juicy
Kissaholic
Loving
Mother
Natural
Organizer
Perseverant
Quirky
Runner
Shaker
Traveler
Underwater lover
Valiant
Wondering
Xi
Young at Heart
Zealous

Lost phone drama

On the way to a friend's house tonight.
Pablo being the usual tyrant he is in the car.
He sits down and I try to distract him with his stuffed monkey, Ramona la mona.
That doesn't work. So I reluctantly give him my phone.

2 hours later as we are about to leave the friend's house,
We realize the phone is amiss.

Find my Iphone, google searching later.
It's gone. The phone is gone.

It's just plastic but I live in Argentina
A country where the exchange rate is volatile
And phones are the last things on people's minds
Who want to feed their families.

So I sit and am frustrated and have high hopes in humanity
That the Uber driver will mysteriously appear and return it.

Nonetheless, I have deleted, erased, reported lost.
I will probably never see it again.
It's okay, it's just a little glass, metal, plastic.
I am on top of things.  My photos are backed up.

It's the frustration of being somewhere where
people are in extreme need, which I have to respect and understand
and not take for granted.

It's the frustration of not being able to comfort or console my wildly, wiry son
On short car rides and so I succomb to abnormal patterns.

It's the frustration of knowing a good chunk of my weekend is now going to go
towards sorting this out.

A Slice from Another Time

One fine day in Koh Phangan, Thailand, while hanging out with my newly made 20 something Malay artist friends.  We decided to go to a secret beach. 

"If you just follow the coast, you will end up somewhere that is untouched, precious, paradise." the locals told us. 

And so we walked along giant elephant grey rocks which lined the Southeastern shore.  

We walked nomadically without a plan, without much water.
It was mid-day, we were sober, we were fine but then we reached a point. 

The point came where we had to jump between two rocks, less than a meter but over a rocky crevice that you had to fight looking down at.  One wrong move and you could be tumbling down the rocks and end up with a bloody body in the sea. 

Riz and Lionel looked skeptical. They stood pensively, examining the options.  "Paradise beach" Or "Our simple lives."  

Long legged me looked at the cliff and initially leaned against the wall, sending some gravel tumbling.  While that's not going to work.  I thought. 

So then, I laid my body in the trusting hands of the earth and basically starfished against the rocky wall, and spread my legs between the two big rocks while sticking my tentacles to the wall and not looking down. 

I had made it, with no great pain or effort. 

The boys looked at one another.  I wanted to continue.  They weren't going to let 22 year old me beaver off into the jungle searching for paradise beaches. 

Rizan decided he would make the jump and made it, but with a couple of rocks tumbling into the sea. 

The other two said "No thanks. We'll see you later."

So we walked on, and within 20 minutes had arrived at a deserted beach.  Besides the grey skies, everything about this place was perfect.  Coconuts lining the shore, palm trees draped over us, and warm water to dip our feet in. 

New friends, we chatted about everything.  While all that ran through the back of my romantic 20 something head was, I wish this wasn't so platonic.  Where is my lover that I am supposed to experience this moment with?  

And so the moment passed, but still is one I will forever hold onto.  

I have been lucky enough since then to end up on equally exotic beaches with lovers and bask in the moment but for that slice of my life, it was just natural beauty and the start of a beautiful friendship that still smiles after nearly 20 years. 

Late Night Visit

Long day.  Tears nearly shed and then joy erupted.  It's March and the seasons are changing and my how you can feel the energy of the earth creeping up your limbs and permeating every cell.

I got home to my hungry Spanish husband, eating his dinner at 9 pm.  A work dinner, with colleagues but enveloping emotions, family chats, professional journeys, hiccups and room for possibility, I too was enriched but exhausted. And, by 9:45 pm we were ready to lay down and crash.  Then all of the sudden, I saw my computer "Damn it!" I screeched.  "I need to blog."

I grabbed my computer. Settled into bed, not ideal.  I try to keep the computer out of bed but I couldn't help it.  My mind was fixated on a horizontal position.  I open my laptop and Pablo starts spurting out noises.  Having not seen him all day, I leap to the occasion.  I want a part of his life, best and worst.  

I go to his room and turn on the light.  He is upright, on a deep search for his bottle.  He finds it, and then realizes I am around, points to books, puzzles, games.  I try to stifle and distract with a diaper change.  He's still pointing at puzzles. I then realize the persiana is open "See Pablo, it's dark outside.  We need to go to sleep." He totally wins this battle.  I read Peedie, then, Stuck, then finally, The Going to Bed Book, and one last winner, constantly lowering the tone in my voice: Goodnight Moon.

"The day is done, I am saying good night and turning off the bedside light.  The moon is high, the stars are deep.  Let's rock and rock and rock to sleep." Sandra Boynton

Magical Chat

A fire floats between us
The conversation spiraling around
us
Engulfing our hearts
Uplifting our minds
We get lost in one another

Words spit out like popcorn from a jiffy pop
Ideas boil over like a hot spring on a cliff

Our energy is one
And we lift off
Soaring to new places

Fueling desires
We shoot up to the galaxy
Surrounded by starry love
And back down to our
Backyard cuddled by the warmth
Our spark is producing.

A Booster Shot!

Met with our new headmaster today who will start in July 2019. 
For an hour, she listened, she added ideas.
She was humble, sweet, bold and vulnerable.
She was curious, caring and so insightful after her few days here.

But the other energizing thing was having this little French-Canadian Filipina woman
who was thoroughly about women empowerment
shoot me with an injection of hope.

All these years later, I had only one other female head of school,
who was powerful in many ways and inspiring in others,
a fantastic public speaker and event host
but whose listening skills fell flat
because she couldn't get that personal touch
that made you know she was talking just to you.

It's a good time with the slice of life challenge, sickness coming on, and only 2.5 more months of school left to get a booster shot.  

The Start of Something Undesired

An exhaustion is over me,
Dehydration when fueling up on liquids all day
A sore throat
Food not tasting as good as it should.

I anticipate a sickness coming.
I have had a solid run.
Since August, no colds, sinus infections, flu- like symptoms,
Flying high.

Taking measured precautions
Warmed up in a blanket
Having some soup with my dinner
Going to bed early

Canceled a dinner date I had with a girlfriend tomorrow.
If I can rest up and not drain my body,
I might be able to get it before it takes over my whole body.

Alright, now, I need to figure out how to get
Vitamin c dissolving tablets and Strepsils delivered to my house
on a Sunday night...

Wish me luck. 

Saturday Morning Me Time

It's so important to take "you" time on your weekends particularly when you are a busy mom. 

I spent this morning walking around Buenos Aires Chinatown area with a good friend.  We strolled, chatted, delighted in the store Tina & Co and the wide variety of choices of good things we could find outside of our neighborhood.  

We spoke of how our food lives might look better if we lived in Chinatown because we'd be more inspired to cook as the grocery stores were full of more spices, seafood, sauces and more.  We spoke of old childhood memories picking up ginger ale bottles and remembering how that was such a treat on airplanes.   And we spoke of the booming alternative milk trend that has slowly but surely reached cow central Argentina.  We spoke of the importance of indulging in one overpriced craving particularly if it's pretty healthy and good and we know we will consume it.  As long as it's not in abundance and as long as we don't cave to every craving, we should be okay.  

Later on, we went to one of my favorite cafes in Belgrano: The Lab Belgrano, started and run by a Brooklynite, this cafe offers high quality coffee and artisanal food prepared with love.  Worth a pit stop for sure if you are in the barrio and for a 3 course meal with a nice coffee and a freshmade juice, the price tag of $10 was hard to beat. 

Happy for mornings with friends, good food, good moods. 

Joy!

Joy is mid-day visits with your 21 month old son.

Joy is jumping on bouncy castles and falling down with buckets of laughter pouring out of our lungs.

Joy is post run beers on a Friday afternoon after a long week with one of your best girlfriends who has elephant ears and a humongous heart.

Joy is running through the streets with a frozen pizza in your hands, winding in and out of the rush hour traffic.

Joy is pizza with your husband on a Friday, fall night.

Joy is splashing around in the bathtub with your baby.

Joy is blissful kisses again and again and again.

Joy is all around us.

Saturday's Run

Saturday's run came and went.
It was a breezy night in Montevideo, Uruguay, about 19 degrees and we had the pleasure of running up and down the coast. 
Earlier on in the day, walking around the town, I had noted to my partner "If this wind continues, tonight is going to be a disaster."
Amongst a sea of florescent orange race shirts, I stretched, completed some plyometrics, and within 15 minutes of arrival, the shot fired to set off.  The shot was a little bit scary.  The Uruguayan military was responsible for it and somehow there was smoke and what sounded like a loud explosion.  It was interesting to see people's bouncy beginning of the race energy drop in 2 seconds, stone faced, confused, and then swing back 30 seconds later once they realized it was just the gunfire to let us know the race had started.

As we moved along the coast hugging the shoreline, I thought, this isn't that bad.  I started off slow but passed the 2:00 pacer quickly, aiming to keep the 1:50 pacer in sight throughout the course of the race.  Around 2 km in, I saw a group of super runners already coming back.  Wow! I thought and simultaneously, picked up my pace.. Later on, I then realized that those were the 5 km runners.  Thank Goodness. I sighed, letting the guilt of running slower pass over me.

All at once, we arrived quite quickly at the turnaround point for the 5km.  I picked up my pace, enjoying the extra push the wind was giving me.  A few old wise men looked at me skeptically "Bueno.  Necesito hacerlo cuando puedo, porque cuando volvemos vamos a mourir." They laughed a little bit but maintained their pace, solid and strong. 

Soon, I was sprinting up the hill, and coasting past the start of the race, the 10 km mark.  Pablo on Andres' shoulders stepped out into the street waving me down and cheering me on.  Super special.

As I ran the next 5 km, I took advantage of the grass median in the middle of the road, jumping up on it and completely adoring the fact that there was lush, soft grass to cushion my knees, hipbone, feet after cruising on solid concrete for the last 10 km.  A little bit of trail running goes a long way and I was feeling okay, even though that 5 km still seemed to take forever.

Finally, we turned around uneventfully in a man-made turn in the middle of the road, and all of the sudden, I felt a giant force.  Pushing me back like I have never experienced before in my life, the wind drew out it's big hand and pushed against me as I tried to move forward.  I continued on, dredding the fact that this was starting at 15 km and there were 6 more km to go. 

As I swayed in and out of the grass median, the only thing making it a little easier, and tucked my head in to push through the wind, I passed a number of people struggling immensely.  Being a runner, part of our job is to pick one another up, and as I hit the 17 km mark, I continued with a girl for a km until she said to me "Aqui, no puedo mas." 

At 19, I had almost had it and started to slow down, only 2 seconds later to be swept up by a lovely Venezuelan man who said "No! No! No!" and forced me to keep running until the end.  With him and the 2 hour pacer on my tail, I finished just under 2 hours at 1:59:44.

Autumn is here.

It starts with a high, the fall air inhaling and exhaling onto my face, sprouting goosebumps under my fall coat, but so content with that fact that autumn has fully arrived and basks in its glory.

Autumn has always been my favorite season.  When I was 5, it was helping my parents in the yard, rake up the leaves, followed by afternoon touch football games and evening parties complete with soda and popcorn and barbecues.  Windows were left cracked open making your room seem the perfect temperature to fall asleep. 

Autumn in the US came with Halloween, treats, the wine colored leaves bursting spontaneously out of trees until they were left dry for the winter.

Autumn in the US came with chili and potato stews, tomato garbanzo soups and fluffy wool sweaters, fun colored and patterned rain boots.

Autumn in the US came with farm parties, Studio 54 parties, volleyball season.

Now, autumn is in April and I am having a little bit of an identity crisis.

Thinking it was spring, I was out looking for bugs for my son's bugnoculars and realized most of them are starting to hide themselves away from the crisp air.

Easter is coming and I am thinking of egg hunts and cute dress up clothes, which will look a little more like Thanksgiving.

And to top it all off, just behind the back wall of our yard, a palm tree looms over the house.  I know four seasons are possible with palm trees but it does seem a little peculiar and hard to fathom.

Still, autumn is here in Argentina and I look forward to snuggling with my family, creating new traditions, since Pablo, Andres and I haven't ever had an autumn together. 

Mama, Mama, Mama.

When I got home from Oula tonight, I had a bit of energy so decided to take Pablo to the park.  He trotted along,  He goes between platypus slow moving, waddling, to what I imagine a mouse would look like running on its hind legs, scurrying along but still not overly elegant. 

We get to the park and Pablo is firing on all cylinders.  He points at trains shouting out "Chu! Chu!"  I make his Miffy stuffed bunny do all the park events: slide, climb up the stairs, ride the swing, which makes Pablo have more fun and want to participate in everything two fold.  It's obviously even funnier when Miffy lands on her head from falling out of the swing or tumbling down the slide.  I don't think I could ever get enough 21 month old giggles. 

We strut back home and stop to pick up some ice cream on the way.  Pablo's happy that the older version of Pablo, who owns the ice cream store, knows who he is.  He passes him a high five, a grin and sparkling eyes.  Pablo offers my Pablo a free cone, but I sway him away before baby Pablo sees it.  Perhaps, it's the blonde hair in a sea of dark haired babies, or the luck of all babies or maybe that Argentines are really kind people who love babies but I think Pablo gets something free everywhere he goes, whether it be an avocado or a alfejor or dried apricots. 

As we get home, I feed Pablo a dinner of veggie burger, a couple potato chips, some pieces of apple and some slices of avocado.  Topped off with some coconut and chocolate ice cream, he is pretty much in heaven. 

More laughter pours from the bathroom as papa does the bath with him.  When papa later goes to the store, I take book duty and at one moment, Pablo crawled on top of me and embraced me and just said "Mama. Mama. Mama."  I held him back sucking in every second of this moment, my life speeding before my eyes not wanting it to ever end.   If you are lucky in life, your child will never stop calling for you.... "Mama, Mama, Mama.."

A Brewing Storm

There's a small storm stirring.
People threatened by power.
People craving power.
People wanting to redistribute power.

Power falling on the weight of tradition.
At least 8 years at stake, but really engrained
Rooted deep down in the earth,
20 years at least.

Power being shifted from one mountain to another.
One mountain wants to grow new trees, new ideas,
give birth to more life.

Another mountain wants to stand still
Let things pan out
Let things be
Believing that things will work
Themselves out
Or remain calm.

Neither mountain is overly confident
As the mountains as are have been laid
By others

Neither way is right nor wrong.

But people who live beneath the mountains
Are spirited
Want something different
Know something different
Is in the cards
Know the power of something
Different can rise up
And rejuvenate
Cultivate.

#SOL19 

The Flight Home

The white cotton fields were spread out for what seemed like miles, with little puffy icebergs popping out spontaneously as we cruised through the air.
Baby boy sucks down his last drop of milk at take ooff and his eyes roll back, eye lids fluttering still, sinking into my left arm which I know will be numb within minutes.
It's short and sweet, a rise and fall, with no ear pressure and a gentle flight as we pass by the Riva stadium packed full of people during game hour.

Short and sweet.  Day is done. Gone the sun, more this week.  

Pablo’s Pace

It’s 8:15 and every bone and emotional neuron is saying “Go back to sleep” but my intellect won’t switch off and it doesn’t happen. I tell my husband I am going downstairs for breakfast in peace.  

He says “Is Pablo up?” 

“Nope.”

“Espera y vamos todos juntos.”

I shrug. I am a slave to my child’s vibe and agree halfheartedly.  Soon, he wakes up a little bit more of a hot mess than normal, so I throw him in the rain shower with my husband for 2 seconds. Initially, he freaks out but when I open the door to grab him and wrap him in a towel, he says “Mas! Más!” Wanting to stay in the water longer. Still, I know this drill and get him, because I know the dressing will take awhile. He basks in the piles of pillows, blankets and sheets on the hotel bed and frolicks around with splendid delight. Finally, I pin him down for diaper and fresh clothes. Between pPablo and my husband’s pacing, my hunger is skyrocketing. Eventually, about 40 minutes later we go down to breakfast.

Airports

Every single person
Holds a different story
Of where they come from
And where they are going.

Most are lost in a device
Prepping to return to their
Monotony or lost in a book
Dreaming of where they are
Off to.

As the parent of a young child,
My airport time is spent
Chasing around a Pablo
Trying to keep him off the floors
Playing with the Duty free toys
That are too expensive to buy.

Still we will go.
We will fly.
We will do.
We will be.

Body Awareness

I remember my chiropractor in Barcelona and him saying to me "At least, you are body aware, it's better than being so accustomed to pain, you let it get worse, or ultimately ignore it."  90% of the time I agree, but I have unfortunately been dealing with this extreme shoulder and neck pain for the last 9 months and I really wish I had a Dr. House in the house to examine me.

 I have been to a Orthopedic doctor thinking it was in my shoulder.  Although, I am not convinced he was the best doctor or measure of if there is an actual muscular injury.  He literally lifted my arm up, moved his hand along my scapula and asked "Does that hurt?" And I said, "Yep." And he prescribed "10 sessions of physiotherapy, should do it." 

I told him "I have had chronic issues and my shoulder hyper extends."

"Let's do this and see what happens."

I felt silenced but at least I knew the PT I was already doing would be covered by insurance.

But it's been nearly 3 months and a lot of PT, and working out with a physical trainer to strengthen those muscles and still, there's a lot of pain.  My physio suggested it might be connected to my digestive system and recommended I visit a gastro. 

At this point, the song "I'm a hypochondriac" was on repeat in my head, but the pain was still not going away.  So, I visited the gastroenterologist and he felt around my stomach, and sent me off for a stomach and digestive system ultrasound.

This came back clear too.  So, he has prescribed me some medicine which ideally is supposed to help speed up my digestion. 

Still, all in all, I usually spend half my week with debilitating shoulder pain.  Sometimes, it's so bad, I am awkward in meetings massaging my neck or stretching in a chair.  At least, in my office, in the comfort of my colleagues, I will try and massage a knot out, do yogi stretches, and exercises.  At home, when I wake up every morning, I try to do 5 minutes of stretching to loosen up my body. 

So these days my body awareness is over rated.  I think I would rather build up a resistance to the pain if it's going to be with me for awhile.

#SOL19 #TWTblog #ouch

Wednesday Work Appreciations

Wednesday Work Appreciations

• The music team at Lincoln and their willingness to let me work with them on inquiry units as I stumble around with my limited knowledge of intervals, rhythm and more. 
• The Grade 5 team who lets me question the hell out of them about mixtures and solutions and annoyingly make sure that what they're doing is grounded in standards and concepts.  And especially to Bernie, who confirms whether or not any of our ideas are scientifically legit. 
• A head of school who looks out for me, who called me into his office today to make sure that I was okay after a colleague berated me in a meeting yesterday.  I shrugged it off.  KL was the first full time leadership position I had and initially there was a lot of resistance.  Still, the same, I was well supported by my colleagues and my leadership team and got shit done.  I feel the same way here with my superintendent, fellow coaches and principals. 
• The flexibility and courage of the 4th grade team.  This team has taken on a wealth of new units this year and often, as leaders in teaching and learning we don't have concrete answers for them as they continue to plan.  Still, they are patient, willing to problem solve and super invested in making learning unbelievably rich for every student.  Go Grade 4 team. 
• HS IB professor of art, Lindsay Rude and her IB art students, particularly those in the second sala, who had some beautiful themes wonderfully connected or justified by literature, politics, emotional or artistic references.  
• Little second grader, Cameron, for being well behaved during lunch duty today and not getting in my face at one point. 

#SOL19  #learning #schools #TWTblog 

A Cascade of Countdowns

10 more weeks until I go to New York for the Units of Study Phonics conference.  This trip is something I am looking forward to for learning (Workshop, Phonics and how to fit it all in), for all the amazing authentic Asian food (Japanese, Korean, Vietnamese, Chinese, Thai) I want to eat, for visits with some of my favorite people on the planet (Jenna, Liz, Kaitlin and whomever else I am lucky enough to see), and for runs in Central Park. 

9 more seconds on the timer to take the pizza out of the oven.  I can smell the roasted tomatoes and the blend of four cheeses.  My mouth waters and smiles at the thought of what's for dinner.

8 more sleeps until our new superintendent comes for her transition visit.  This feisty French Canadian Filipina woman is going to be a game changer for our school and my professional learning. 

7 more months or less of diapers.  Here's to hoping that this family can leave less of a carbon footprint and that grandma can help reduce that number in half and get the job of potty training this summer while we hang at the beach.  Fingers crossed.

6 more hours of wake up time.  Last night was my husband's return after a 3 week business trip.  It was a beautiful reunion, good conversation, a bottle of wine and spreading lots of love.  Unfortunately,  tiredness prevailed today, and I have a grad school assignment looming over me that needs to be done before I can hit the hay.

5 more days until grad school is done for this semester.  My assessment in analysis has been an interesting course in that I have learned so much about how coaches approach data conversations in other schools.  This is such valuable information when it comes to moving forward at our school in our assessment journey.

4 days until the Montevideo Half Marathon.  Today,  my head was foggy.  My body ached and the rain poured down in buckets, causing me to switcheroo my scheduled 10 km and rest day.  Amen.

3 more months until Summer vacation.  This summer, I will be in Barcelona with my family and friends and then travel back early to South America so that I can climb Machu Pichu with some pretty fierce women: Christine and Leilani.

2 degrees less this week than last week.  Summer is giving up her fight but my oh my autumn and it's delightful breezes and crisp air brings me such joy.

1 more minute before this 12th slice of life post goes out into the digital world to fly around. 

The Workout Farm

"Okay, your form is really looking good there. Rib cage down, shoulders back.  Engage."
On Mondays, I work out with a cute, American, 20-something med school dropout/ weightlifting champion at a hardcore sparring center, a la Rocky, in the heart of Buenos Aires.

It's not that I want to be Rocky or a bodybuilder or ripped.  Mostly it's about wanting to be able to pick up my child who continuously gains weight because he loves to eat almost everything, which I mentioned in yesterday's post.  That, and as a proud mama, of an incredibly loving, hug, kiss and snuggle giving little boy, I want to soak up every last second of being able to hold him in my arms.

So, there's that and there's also the fact that I would rather drop dead than voluntarily do push-ups or chin-ups or hang from a bar.  It's just not something that sparks joy. 

Therefore, I am super thankful for parents who have always modeled healthy living and have been fortunate enough to work out with trainers for the last 20 years; my brother, who is always experimenting with the latest fitness rage, my trainers or other trainers who have inspired me to challenge myself to do something way out of my comfort zone (ie. running, yoga, core and leg workouts).

#selfcare #SOL19 #luckyinlife #athleticism

My Budding Foodie

My child is becoming too Argentine for my liking. His love for ice cream, chorizo and media lunas (these mini croissants glazed with a little bit of sugar syrup) are of grave concern.  I think he would probably live on those alone along with fruit, carrots and potato chips.

Still, it's fun and interesting to raise an international child.  He is nearing 21 months and he translanguages like no tomorrow.  Going between Spanish and English and intelligently picking the easiest of the words to use when he speaks.  He does love chorizo, ice cream and media lunas but those are pretty good things to eat in general.  I, myself, am a sucker for all three here too.

Representing Mom and the United States, he likes Mexican food, Indian food and any kind of milk he can get his hands on.   Representing Papa on the Spanish side, he likes olives and cheese and salty potato chips.  You can find him at a barbecue, hoarding potato chips or running back to them if I remove him from where they are placed.  Finding a balance of healthy eating is tough when you get out and travel, we feed him healthily at home, with a promise of one dessert  a day(usually a yogurt or an ice cream) if he eats his dinner.  We supplement snacks with oatmeal cereal, fruit etc. but on the other hand, I have no idea what other parents bring for his school snack and when we go out to someone else's house, I don't want to monitor him the whole time. Adults need to have some fun too.  So we just usually let him eat what he wants with the exception of candy.  He is still 21 months and I long to keep it that way but we only have so much control as parents.

I do appreciate the wealth of fruits and vegetables Argentina has on offer, and most of them are seasonal like Spain, so you aren't contributing as badly to carbon footprints like we were always in Malaysia.  This morning, Pablo had a banana.  Later, he had a peach for a snack and during lunch some watermelon.  Just as he went down for a nap, I cut up some pineapple.  The price is right here too. You can walk out of the fruit/ vegetable shop spending $10 with four bags of stuff.  For fresh produce in the States, it would cost 3 times as much at minimum.

It's fun to have a budding foodie at our feet and I look forward to continuing my culinary journeys with Pablo as a partner in crime for the rest of our lives.  

11 Miles Down

I escape from the park
Leaving babe behind
With my Venezuelan secretary
Who is not only an incredible poet
But an incredible person
Who took pity on me
And my first world problem.

Mile 1 is smooth
Zigging and Zagging out of
The Broken sidewalks
I try to make a mental map
In my mind of what my 11 mile route
Will look like.

Mile 2 takes me into
Acassuso, next to Pablo's
School, where I never go
With tempting pastries
Lined in the windows of Confiterias
Colorful and sending
Dares to come in.

Mile 3 is when I start to
Enjoy what I am doing
The air is crisp
It might just be the first real day of Southern
Hemisphere autumn
Which means blissful running weather

Mile 4 takes me by a familiar route
But normally I am a passenger
It's funny how you know where you are
But you still have to pay attention
Because you never know what's going
To come out of Buenos Aires sidewalks or
Corners

Mile 5 and 6 are fun ones.
I buy a bottle of pomelo Gatorade which
Makes it even better. Still,
The sidewalk has no become a jagged trail.
My only fear is my clumsiness
Which would send me tumbling into a
Lane of traffic
Food for the bus and fastly zipping cars.

Mile 7 takes me back to civilization
Alongside the Hippodrome
I catch up with the runners who
Aren't training for races Or
Stick it safe with city built running loops.

Mile 8 is when I start to drag.
I stop to stretch and then continue.
Luckily I cross the train tracks and
The weight seems temporarily removed
From my shoes which had suddenly felt
Like bricks were in them.

Mile 9 along Libertador.
Another stretch.
Not so much longer I tell myself.
You have as much time as you need.

Mile 10 the slowest one yet.
And another stretch
And another stretch

Mile 11 down.
A cool down walk in La Lucila.
Strava off/ mission accomplished.

Next week's 13 miles are going to be rough. 

Almost.. Then...

Need a run?  Yes, I do.

In more ways than one.

Too bad.   So sad. 

Nanny is busy.

Babysitter has SATs

My 3 hours of zen, exercise and peace

Has now become my prime demise

A half marathon a week from tomorrow

My body folds into sorrow

Knowing that I need to get on the road

In order to be able to survive next week's race.

An afternoon stroll to get all that we need

Milk, fruits, chorizo

Ice cream, Chalk, Bubbles

I am feeling good until I scoop Pablo up and 

Notice he is smelly and has two wet spots. 

I coerce him home with ice cream and bananas

In my hands 

Although he doesn't understand 

Why there is no instant gratification.

Cooking dinner

I set my 21 month old on the counter

And he fidgets with the broken coffee maker

And slam

The grinds fly everywhere

In the air

On the floor

Not much room for me to score.

Cutting watermelon 

On the floor

The only way I can keep him occupied

Is to give him a bowl

And put every 5th piece in it

And the others in the one for the refrigerator

He grabs for the knife in the split second

I put it down

And all to sudden sees my frown

Which saves us from a wound 

At least.

Bedtime's norm is milk, books and mama's bed.

We play, snuggle and move to P's place. 

I think I have worn him out and we are on book 8.

I put him to sleep and it seems like he is out almost.

Then...

#TWTblog #Sliceoflife19 #parenting

When the Stars Align

The curry yellow lights blended with the crimson reds flooding the walls of Marula cafe, as 70s funk bursted out of the speakers.  It was 4 am, and fall and an Indian summer, where somehow I was still wearing shorts in October.  I walked towards the bar and all of the sudden was intercepted by a tall man.  

I wish I remembered his entrance line.  How he hooked me, but all I remember, and I hadn't had too much to drink, was talking to him briefly in Spanglish, about living recently in Venezuela.  "I lived in Venezuela this last year." His eyes lit up in the dark.  He found this fact intriguing.  Perhaps, looking back on the situation, this was one of the good things that came from Venezuela "I lived to tell" and there was so many stories.  So here's to the stars aligning, first, returning to a dance club when I had run into friends on my way home  on a Saturday night. Second, being in my groove and comfortable on the dance floor, vulnerable and not looking for any kind of trouble, but just genuinely having a good time.  Times like these where our best shines from the inside out.  And finally, to being thirsty at 4 am or Andres may have never made his move.   It was October 2011, at a little 70s funk discotech in Barcelona that I met the man I hope I will spend the rest of my life with. 

#TWTblog #sol19 #partners

Baking with Mom

I had a rough day so I wanted to write about somethings that made me happy.

Baking with Mom.

When I was just 4
Mom whipped out the bowls
A metal mixer
Some chocolate chips
Shredded coconut
Butterscotch chunks
Graham crackers.

We crushed the crackers,
Melted the chocolate
Sprinkled the coconut
And threw chunks of Butterscotch
On top to make
Magic Cookie Bars

The photo of me with
The wooden spoon
An enormous grin
And my brother nowhere to be found
Sparks sanity on days like these.

When I was 14 and generally cranky,
I came home from track practice
Not hungry after 8-400 m dashes
My mom wanted to feed me
And settled with "Let's make cookies"

She took out the cinnamon
the snow white sugar
the creamy butter
the dusty flour

We mixed
Mixed
Mixed

My grumpiness subsided
Wafts of cinnamon floated through the air
And snickerdoodles came out of the oven
Stealing my hunger and replacing it with joy.

When I was 28 and at home for the first time
In a while, recently divorced
Not wanting to talk
Not wanting to eat

My mom broke out the cookie cutters
The multiple ingredients for 4 different types of cookies
Hershey Kiss Peanut Butter
Mexican Wedding Cookies
Sugar Cookies with Sprinkles
Oatmeal Scotties

She didn't say a word.
We baked in silence.
Rolling the dough
Cutting out shapes

She knew what we had to do.

When the first batch was in
She broke out the wine.
At that point, things had become better than fine.

I smiled because somehow she knew
Those moments together sparked happy brew.

Now that she's gone, my love for baking
Has temporarily been lost and needs awaking.

I long for the day when Pablo and I can recreate cookie magic
With her loving guidance shining upon us.

#SOL19 #TWTblog #Remember

This is the Year I:

This is the year I: 

-listen and ask more questions.  

This is the year I:

-make myself stretch everyday because I know how much good it does my body. 

This is the year I: 

-let my child lead me through my neighborhood with wonder, innocence and the strong desire to find wild animals at his disposal. 

This is the year I:

-fall in love again with water in all forms because of Pablo.

This is the year I: 

-examine the clouds again with wide eyes, curiosity and amazement.

This is the year I: 

-roll around in the grass laughing with loved ones. 

This is the year I:

-smoke a cigarette every now and then and am okay with it.

This is the year I: 

-regularly salute my mom during moments of brilliance as if she were there in the background, a silent observer. 

This is the year I:

-sit still when stuck in a flustering storm of dragonflies and butterflies.

This is the year I: 

-give kiss attacks to my son and feel like I get shot with an injection of sunshine as he smiley requests  “Mas! Mas!"

This is the year I: 
-start making better environmental decisions, no plastic bags, shampoo bars, more recycled clothes, toys, etc. 

This is the year I: 

-name and note small things as if living them for the first time. 

This is the year I:

...

A Pretty Painless Experience: Single Parenting Blues

In the afternoon yesterday, my little baby boy started screaming like he had been possessed by the devil.  I felt for a fever, scanned for any physical damage, and tried to observe him but he just wanted to be held and rocked like he was 5 months old again.  He did occasionally pull on his ear and so I thought maybe he had an ear infection.  Guiltily, I gave him some ibuprofen which knocked him out quickly for another 2 hours after he had already taken a 1.5 hour snooze.  When he woke up he was peaceful.  Although, I monitored the situation til he went to bed.  And when he woke up in the middle of the night, I brought him to my bed for as long as I could take the rolling around (about 1.5 hours) just to make sure he was okay, no fever, etc.  I thought I was in the clear and then...

This morning, I was snuggling him and giving him a kiss attack and noticed his ear full of orangish pus and wax.  I took a closer look and it was definitely infected, even after swiping it with an alcohol wipe, I noticed the entrance into the canal was shut with wax and pus.   So, I called up my pediatrician; 8 hours away on holiday.  She recommended this and that based on a photo and no fever, but since my entire life, I had chronic ear issues, I did not want to prescribe without a trip to the doc especially since this was P's first ear infection.  So, I begrudgingly went to the dreaded Clinica Olivos. 

Surprisingly, it was a pretty painless experience.  A 20 minute wait, a seemingly competent doctor and a prescription.  I was feeling like my day was pretty tied up at this point. 

So, I walked outside towards the pharmacy and it was closed.  Then, I did a quick google search with my phone.  1.6 km away.  Baby in arms. 13.3 kg baby to be exact. 

When we made it to the pharmacy, P was as happy to be out of my arms as I was, and he sat patiently in the waiting area while I ordered his prescription. 

It's 2 pm and the day is more than halfway over but these single parenting stints make you feel like you are constantly climbing a steep hill with 5 minute intervals of flat terrain.  I am thankful to have a little lover, not a fighter of a man.  Still, I send huge kudos to the parents in the world who do this or did this everyday, especially, my little brother.

#SOL19 #TWTblog #Parenting 

Dragonfly Pandemonium

A Ding
Two Horns Blare
Then the train revs up it's engine
Firing past the park
Like a stampede of bulls

And as the rumble starts to die down
An explosion of butterflies
Dragonfly pandemonium
The air is buzzing

Woosh. Wee.
Engulfed by bugs,
We pause enjoying
the dances all around us.

#SOL19 #SliceofLife #Natureswonder

Keeping up with 20 months old.

When the first drop of noise comes out of the corner from down the hall, my body twitches.  I roll around thinking to myself, let it be a nightmare, let it be a sweat, let it not be... then, there it is the morning wail to let me know I am to deliver milk, and scoop you into my arms and remind you that you aren't alone in the house and that you are surrounded by love.

It's Saturday and while papa is not here to share the laughter, the pool time, the crying, the load, I have decided to get out of the house and go on an adventure.  We eat an amazing breakfast this morning, inspired by you, dear P, avocados and scrambled eggs, and toast with homemade raspberry preserves.  And then, we pack up: 2 diapers, 1 big bottle of water for mama, 1 small bottle of water for P,  and a recyclable sandwich baggie fulled of pseudo healthy snacks: raisins, peanuts, oatmeal cereal bears, 2 cinnamon cookies, chopped up apricots, and salted Peruvian corn.  Plus a pouch to help us survive the train journey down to Palermo.  It's a gorgeous day and with the puree of pomegranates, pears, carrots and oats, you are relaxed and geared up to go, until we get on the train and you decide that being still is not feeling good.  One minute you point to the train seat, and I move you and you sit gracious for 5 minutes, pointing here and there and everywhere, until you realize your stroller is empty which of course, makes you want to be there.  Why wouldn't it? Empty spots shout to be made full. 

At the park, you insist upon the see-saw "Up-down" I say intensely trying to increase vocabulary but feeling like a broken record. 

By the time we reach the restaurant for lunch, you are full of all the snacks from before.  But mama is with another mama, and we know this story like the back of our hand.  We choose the terrace of a cafe that is a bamboo jungle with easy to view spots for you, dear P to run around, to make friends, to smile at babies, to turn over sugar bowls, to throw rocks, and to get lost in your imagination. 

On the way home, going in and out of the calm and the storm, I desperately long for naptime, to get in my slice, to tidy up the house a bit, to take a shower...

With a splash of milk, and a change of diaper, you magically concur.  It's time for everyone to get their daily dose to themselves: naps, dreams, silence reside as we speak.   With that, I am off to indulge in a little siesta myself.  Happy Saturday! 

The ABCs of Living Abroad

This morning started with the air and the sun opening their hearts to the Argentine fall.  I walked to school in a long sleeved shirt, with the breeze sweeping across my face, softly opening my still sleepy eyes.  It was Friday! A long weekend was coming! I was more than half way through my single parenting stint and the weather was flat out spectacular.  I arrived at school a minute or two late as I was relishing in the B-beauty of it. 

I arrived to school sat down to my first conversation of the day, a coaching cycle with a teacher on High School integrated Physics and Chemistry.  We spoke of what's next, some guided inquiry strategies and got revved up for the next week which will introduce waves.  We previewed hooks and discussed student accountability.  I was 2-0.  My day had started off with two beautiful moments before 10 am... Wooee!

After the chat my coachee, I decided to treat myself to Starbucks.  I had held out all week and was craving a cold brew so I got my reusable Starbucks cup and walked over and my crush on the Argentine fall weather got even stronger.  I walked to the counter, ordered a cold brew and handed the cashier my cup.  She said to me straight faced in Spanish "We don't serve cold drinks in these cups."  I straight faced, no tone, no angst, said "Why?" And I didn't get a response.  This proceeded to a stare down.   Then she got another cup, a plastic one, to which I firmly responded.  "Please don't use that plastic cup. That's why I brought my own. "  The stare down went on, by this time the line was growing.   Finally, she took the cup and put it next to the place where the coffee orders would be made.  She had put the plastic cup from before away but I thought I might as well just give her the benefit of the doubt that the process in between of getting the coffee in the cup would be a pure, non plastic escapade.  I chose to turn the other way.  Bottomline is this moment, was my A of the day, annoying.  When you are trying to be environmental conscious and the inability to think outside of a box gets in the way... let's just say I have the image of a goat ramming it's horns against a wall and not getting anywhere.

The final letter of tonight is the C-care... There is so many places I can go with this but being abroad I am thankful for the care I am able to give my child and myself.  Today, I got home from work, went for a quick 5 km run and then was able to come home and have physiotherapy at my house.  My physiotherapist takes good care of me.  She does ultrasound therapy and then massage and on top of that, she is an Argentine-German lady that speaks 3 languages and is my age with a child a similar age to Pablo, so we can chat about everything from here to the moon.   Meanwhile, while Sandra cared for me, my helper, Vero, took Pablo to the park which made everything better for everyone.  I thank the spirits above, whoever, whatever they are for allowing me to take care of myself and take care of others.  It is something that is easy to take for granted.

#ABC #Lifeabroad #SOL19 #SliceofLifeChallenge